Of Macaroni and Fire Alarms
by Destined To Repeat
Summary: Zidane and Steiner explore uncharted enemy territory: the kitchen.


--Yikes. This was written a LONG time ago (laugh) Bored during school, and my friend gave me a prompt, and--this little beauty was the result. Should probably, you know, go through it sometime or other, see if I made any embarrassing typos...  
Actually--nahh. Enjoy.

~Of Macaroni and Fire Alarms

Zidane pondered.

He pondered about life, death, existence, love… and he pondered about Her.

'Her' being the sandwich-maker.

Zidane wondered how the heck so much smoke could come out of one kitchen appliance. Meanwhile, Steiner was panicking. "What have you done?!" he cried, rushing to the sandwich-maker, which was sparking convulsively. "What have you DONE?!"

"I'm not really sure," said Zidane matter-of-factly.

"Well, what did you put in it?" Steiner asked in a quivering voice that was desperately trying to masquerade as calm. Zidane lifted a frozen sandwich wrapped in aluminum foil. Then he looked at it as if he'd just had a major epiphany. "Oh… Putting metal in a cooking machine is a big no-no, right?"

Steiner took several deep breaths. "Zidane. I realize that whacking things and jumping everywhere is what you do best, but please, PLEASE don't blow anything up this time."

Zidane solemnly made a 'cross my heart and hope to die' motion across his chest.

The captain of the Knights of Pluto rubbed his forehead. "Alright, let's make something simple. Like eggs."

"Eggs?!" Zidane gasped in mock-horror. "What justice can one restore to the world when we are snatching pure babies from their mothers? What has the universe come to when their heroes are barbarically annihilating unborn chickens, those which will never see the beauty of hope and determination, and light deep within the darkest depths of destiny's dam?!?"

Steiner narrowed his eyes "…Am I being mocked?"

Zidane strolled off to retrieve the eggs, whistling innocently.

He came back juggling four eggs and a pan. Steiner tried to snatch the pan out of mid- air, but the thief deftly twirled it over his head and into his other hand, causing Steiner to topple over in a heap of rusty armor. The knight, however, was foiled but not defeated, and he immediately gave chase. Zidane carelessly skated around him, humming Beethoven's fifth.

Finally, Steiner stood in a corner, huffing and puffing, and snarled, "Eggs. Now."

Zidane saluted grimly, turned gracefully on one heel, and proceeded to crack the four eggs into the pan.

After a bit of Steiner-yelling-his-brains-out-and-Zidane-fishing-for-broken-egg-shells fun, the stove was turned on (almost) uneventfully. The two cooks stared in awe: Zidane had actually managed to cook something.

Then smoke began to coil ominously out of the eggs. Zidane and Steiner didn't move. Instead, they blinked several times in unison. Then the smoke detectors went off. They still didn't move. After five minutes, the eggs burst into flame, spraying bits of yolk all over Steiner's helmet. They still didn't move, save for a muffled snicker. Then the sprinkler system went off.

"Zidane," said Steiner calmly, as they were drenched by the oncoming flood.

"Yes?"

"I assume you forgot the PamTM spray?"

"PamTM spray?"

There was a blood-curdling battle cry, and chase (along with a blues-rock rendition of Beethoven's fifth) resumed.

It took a while to figure out how to stop the sprinkler, but with Steiner's amiable, hands-on personality (whack, whack, whack… bam, bam, bam… whack, bam AAAAARRGH!) and Zidane's kind encouragement ("How many Rusty's does it take to screw in a sprinkler?"), they eventually stopped the water, dried up the kitchen, and began the next project:

Macaroni and cheese.

"_Dun _dun dun dun DUN," said Zidane with a huge, impish smile.

"Quite," said Steiner.

This time Steiner got the pot and box of instant macaroni. He showed the boy how to fill it with water, put it on the stove, and start a fire beneath it. Said boy completed the process with a risky flaunt, but nothing exploded so all was good.

The most harrying part, in Zidane's opinion, was the ten-minute wait before you could pour the noodles in.

So Zidane was confined to a chair next to the table, idly folding ripped bits of the paper box into little squares.

"Hey Rusty…" he said, only half paying attention. "Is there a God?"

Steiner, who had been loyally guarding the hot water with his own brand of defiant paranoia, blinked.

"That's what most people might ask."

There was a pause. Steiner blinked some more.

"But what _I_ really want to know is… Is there a moogle?"

A very, very long pause in which Steiner blinked, because, hey, he's GOOD at it! and then finally managed to murmur, "Moogle."

"Yes. A pet moogle, to be precise."

Steiner did not understand. His head swam. "A… pet moogle?"

"Yeah," the thief said, nodding solemnly. "They're cute. Ah! Time to put the noodles in!"

The noodles were tossed in one by one basketball-style, with Steiner (all magically disappearing brain cells mostly restored) angrily trying to block and Zidane tossing them easily into the bubbling water anyway, from various positions like under his leg, backwards, while doing a flip, and upside down. Chase would have resumed, but by the time all the small twirly noodles were safely sunken into the boiled water, most of them were cooked already.

Under Steiner's careful direction, Zidane lifted the wobbling pot and had begun to steer it toward the sink. And that's when he accidentally tripped over the egg pan.

The pot flew out of the boy's hands as if in slow motion, sailed gracefully through the air in a wake of water and elbow-noodles, and splattered… all over our friendly-neighborhood not-so-innocent passer-by: Steiner.

Now, children, as you may know, boiling water is very hot. You may also know that armor is made of metal. Something else you may know is that metal is a good conductor of heat.

Don't try this at home, kids.

Steiner howled like a wounded animal and tried to stagger to the sink for cold water. Unfortunately he went in the wrong direction (being that the pot was obstructing his vision) and knocked the table over, flailing wildly on it like a beached turtle. In the meantime, Zidane was still falling with his mad slow motion skillz. He tumbled onto the other end of the table, which was now sticking up strangely, creating a sort of see-saw and sending Steiner, adorned with pot, water, and noodles and still howling, straight through the window.

Various sources suggest that they probably should've stuck with take-out that day.

After fishing his companion out of a nearby vegetable cart and escaping a variety of wraths such as Steiner, the owner of the vegetables, and having to clean the kitchen up again, they were back in business. However, Steiner was very careful to keep a safe distance from the thief, who was still trying to stifle his laughter.

"This," said Steiner, indicating a small, round vegetable from his corner on the opposite side of the kitchen from Zidane, "is a potato."

"We've been acquainted," said Zidane. "You _did_ fall into a vegetable cart after all."

His angry flush was practically visible through his rusty armor. "Now, tell me, how do you suppose you make a baked potato?"

"Oh, I've been making that for years!"

"Really?" Steiner looked surprised.

"Duh," The boy replied making a petulant face. "You just put it in the microwave on a plate. Here, toss it."

Zidane caught the potato with a small flourishing sweep, twirled it onto a plate and flung the plate into the open microwave. Then he languidly shut the microwave door and punched in the respective numbers. A soft beep sounded before a light flicked on and the potato began to cook.

Zidane took a bow. "Thank you, thank you, oh, you're too kind…"

Steiner still didn't look convinced. "Hmm… move aside, thief. I shall take the potato out when it is done."

Zidane was shoved to the corner that Rusty used to be in, and Steiner stood careful watch over the potato.

The microwave beeped three times. Steiner pulled the door open…

And with no more warning than a small 'flooof!' Steiner's armor was assaulted with an army of flying bits of potato.

After a moment, the knight turned, took several deep calming breaths and said tightly, "Zidane."

"Yes?" This conversation was starting to sound very familiar…

"I assume you forgot to poke holes in the potato before you put it on the plate?"

"Holes?"

Some very strange noises could be heard from the kitchen: crashes, screams, splashes, bangs, and an odd little remix of Beethoven's fifth.

They had finally gotten dinner. It wasn't, by any means, up to either of their standards, but it was edible, and it was all they had, so they ate it. Zidane didn't dare to so much as squeak.

Until finally-- "Please pass the McNuggets," said Zidane, cautiously.

Steiner turned and pitched it at the boy's head.

--END

Epilogue One:

"Hey! I just got a great idea!" Zidane said brightly.

"What?" Steiner asked, a feeling in the pit of his stomach screaming that he was going to regret the question.

"Maybe tomorrow you can teach me how to build stuff!"

The thief narrowly dodged the flying Chicken McNugget.

Epilogue Two:

Zidane grinned to himself, his hands flying deftly over the ingredients and utensils while prepared a very difficult gourmet meal after Steiner had gone to bed.

He really _was_ very satisfied with his acting skills…


End file.
